Mum's life is being ruined by my gran's demands

Dear BelWhen my grandfather died ten years ago, my maternal grandmother moved to be nearer to us. Mum and Nanna never had an easy relationship. Mum says my grandmother always made it clear that my grandfather was her priority and Mum came second.

When Nanna moved, things became worse between them. Mum is an only child and I think she resents having to do so much now when she felt neglected as a child. In return, Nanna never feels Mum is doing enough.

She’s now 86 and becoming increasingly confused — relying on Mum (her full-time carer) to do more and more. But she insists she’s still very independent and seems to turn a blind eye to all Mum does.

'Mum is an only child and I think she resents having to do so much now when she felt neglected as a child. In return, Nanna never feels Mum is doing enough.'

My
lovely mother is very unhappy — running herself ragged yet
unappreciated. Things seem to be coming to a head since Nanna needs more
and more help at home but refuses to accept anyone but Mum doing
anything. The subject of carers is always shut down and if anyone tries
to broach the idea of a care home, Nanna becomes hysterical.

It’s
heart-breaking for my Mum to hear from our cleaning lady (who also
cleans my grandmother’s flat) that Nanna is constantly complaining about
how little Mum does for her and how ‘wicked’ she is. I cannot stand by
and watch my Mum grind herself into the ground any more.

She
and Dad are moving house in a couple of months and I’ve suggested this
provides her with the perfect opportunity to step back and allow Nanna
to attempt to manage on her own for a few weeks — hoping it will make
her realise she must accept some outside help.

I
feel someone needs to sit down and give my grandmother a sharp talking
to as she is being so incredibly selfish and hurtful. At the same time,
she is a frail, lonely old woman and even though how she treats Mum is
tantamount to bullying, two wrongs don’t make a right. I want to grab
Mum by the shoulders and shake her, to force her to realise that Nanna
will never change her attitude towards her.

Now
in her 60s, Mum deserves to be surrounded by people who make her happy
and who love her — her husband, my two brothers and myself, her
friends . . .

She
must stop being pulled into the orbit of this woman who hurts her over
and over again and will continue to do so. What do I do? I cannot force
my grandmother into a nursing home — nor can I watch this train wreck
any longer. EMMA

THis is a letter from a lovely, sensitive young woman, a devoted daughter who knows quite well that neither giving her grandmother ‘a sharp talking to’ nor grabbing her mother by the shoulders to give her a good shake will happen.

I fear that if anybody confronted your grandmother to tell her that she is being selfish and ungrateful, then she would become defensive and hostile, so no good would come of it.

As for your mother, you tell me in
your longer letter that you are always having the same conversations,
which never result in any change.

I
feel very touched by the protective love for her, which shines out from
your letter, and know that many readers will count her far luckier than
they.

Yet what to do
about this seemingly intractable family problem, which has its origins
in your mother’s childhood? She never felt loved enough, yet you tell me
she was close to her father. Therefore, it must have been additionally
hard when he died because (we must be honest) she would have preferred
her mum to go first.

That
unspoken feeling will have a long-term effect — because you know,
carers cannot do their filial duty without real love. There is no blame
to be attached here; it is the situation we are in. These two women were
never close, yet now they are thrust into physical closeness without
the emotional structure to hold them up.

It seems right that your mother should step back a little, especially as you tell me one of your brothers is unwell.

It’s
wise to identify the two sides of your grandmother. On the one hand,
she displays the selfishness that can be (let’s be honest) a
characteristic of the old. On the other hand, she is ‘a frail, lonely
old woman’ and if only for that, she deserves understanding.

Is
there another family member or a close friend who can step in to help?
Your grandmother moved from her old home, which must leave her feeling
isolated; this is all the more reason to assemble people who will stop
by for tea with her.

Yes,
the impending house move will be a good moment for your mum to be
occupied elsewhere. I would hate to think of your Nanna feeling any
pressure to go to a care home, which is why help at home is vital. What
about your cleaning lady? Could she not play a larger role in helping
with the older woman who clearly confides in her – even if what she says
isn’t very pleasant?

And
what is your own relationship with Nanna? And that of your father? This
situation affects the whole family, of which your mum is the centre.

She
has to realise that insisting on shouldering the burden herself will
hurt the rest of you — and in any case (tough talk here) martyrs do not
make loving carers.

Please don’t resent your grandmother. Focus on those feelings of compassion, knowing that it will help your mother.

I’d
like to think you could have a gentle talk with Nanna, explaining that
your mum has to focus on your brother as well as moving house, so will
go round on these specific days. On other days A or B will go round.

Couldn’t
you do her shopping for her? She must know that she will never be
without attention, but that your lovely mother really does need
attention, too, before she makes herself ill.

Abandoned by the love of my life

DEAR BELMy subject is grief, which you often discuss in your column. It is the pain of losing my partner of 16 years, the love of my life.

He did not die, but walked out on our life for someone he only met a short while ago. We had been away for a week for Christmas, then when we arrived home late in the evening, he told me out of the blue he was leaving me for a life with this new woman. Within minutes, he was gone.

When he returned next day for his belongings, I asked him to at least talk about what we should do. He said he had no time to talk. Now I don’t know where he is living or who with — and I am not sure how to proceed. The grief of this loss is shocking . . . it seems worse than a death . . . there is no closure, no way to say goodbye.

I am not bitter, Bel, nor angry. I understand if his love has gone to someone else. I am just bewildered that we could not talk, after all we have gone through together, for so many years. It seems he really didn’t to know me and trust me enough to listen. I guess he just can’t face me. Maybe he feels a little bit ashamed. Truly, he broke my heart.

I am 68 years old — which should be old enough to know better. My heart will mend and I will move on and be fine, but for the time being it bloody hurts. Do you have any wisdom for me?LILY

How can you be ‘old enough to know better’ — when what you do know is great love as well as acute loss, both of which are the cornerstones of human existence?

Your letter is full of inner calm as well as sorrow and confusion, and that leads me to guess that you have already found your own wisdom, without needing much from me.

There’s no recrimination, no wish for any sort of vengeance, no mention of financial or property matters (as I might expect), no complaining about loneliness — just a dignified expression of the purest grief. I admire that more than I can say.

At 68, you had every right to assume you were all set to enter a companionable old age, which is surely what most of us desire. Yet your partner was seeing another woman behind your back and told you the news just after a holiday, during the season of goodwill. Horrible!

I bet he rationalised his bombshell by telling himself there’s no ‘right’ time to break such news. Maybe that’s correct, but there is certainly a ‘right’ way of doing it. To walk out on you after all that time, with no explanation . . . it’s like being run over, isn’t it? But it has occurred a million times and more, and will go on happening as long as consuming passion is as much a part of the human condition as deep love and agonising loss. We can correctly guess that a build-up of urgent desperation (‘I want to go to this woman, and I deserve to be happy’) combined with terrible guilt (‘I know I’m behaving like a s*** but I can’t help it’) and cowardice (‘I just can’t face the conversation’) to make the love of your life behave with such cruelty.

People also usually deny all that was good in the relationship, too, to justify their actions. ‘You never understood me,’ can sound like blasphemy when it is an outright lie, used as an excuse by somebody who just wants a change.

It’s hard to offer you comfort, because I don’t want to sound glib. But it sounds as if you are already on the way to what I can only call philosophical acceptance. Knowing about hurting, you are mature enough to anticipate the healing, too. That is rare — and offers you something to build on, because you have inner resources that one man’s behaviour cannot touch.

Perhaps he didn’t really know you — and (I’m afraid) vice versa. Our loves can give us terrible shocks, which do call into question the life we led together.

But, yes — time to step away. Read widely, join a book club, go to art galleries, theatre and concerts, try your local church, join up to learn a new skill or to volunteer — anything to get you out and about and to feed that living soul, which is your proudest possession.

And finally... The old sewing machine that made my day

Here’s a little story about how an eBay purchase lifted my spirits.

We’d decided to create a console table from two old Singer treadle machine bases and a long oak top (already in my husband’s workshop).

Bel reads all letters, but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.

The first base came from nearby; then
we saw another for the right price and in the same condition (they vary)
in Chesham, Buckinghamshire. That’s two hours away but we love visiting
beautiful ancient churches; with some shopping and a pub lunch we’d
have a day out with our little dog.

I’d
noticed the sewing machine base was being sold by a charity but didn’t
give it much thought. When we arrived at the Old Boot Factory, Chesham, a
bustling forecourt sale was in full swing, in aid of Workaid
(workaid.org). I’d never heard of the amazing organisation which, since
1986, has been supplying refurbished tools and equipment to vocational
training projects and self-help groups, mainly in East Africa, but in
the UK, too.

It is all
about giving men and women the means to help themselves — and each year
they assist more than 9,000 disadvantaged people.

We
were shown rows of old-fashioned hand-powered sewing machines,
carpentry and gardening tools, car mechanic kits, knitting machines, as
well as fabrics, needles and cottons, nuts and bolts, you name it — all
refurbished by volunteers.

And
if that’s not good news enough, there is a spin-off. Because the
volunteers who help clean up the tools, and pack them for dispatch, and
sort through the materials donated by business, all have a great time!
Workaid HQ has become a social hub for the community.

There
are people with special needs who come in and help, a shop run by
volunteers, and now art classes. This is a double whammy of goodness.
Honestly, I felt genuinely excited to see the shelves and shelves of
stuff waiting to be shipped out to enable people to transform their own
lives.

We were happy to
hand over £60 and load the sewing machine base into the back of our old
Saab. Pottering in Amersham afterwards was great fun, too, but it was
Workaid that made our day.